


Bells

by OfficialAverageBiscuit



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga), Devilman Lady
Genre: Aesthetic bullshit, Akira is too tired to be mad, Anyways this is useless sappy nonsense, Burn the canon please, But like really its devilman when is it not, I hate Lady but that ending though, Idiots in Love, It doesnt even make much sense but its pretty, Like Satan how about that, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Neither do I tbh, Poetic nonsense, Post-Canon, Ryo literally just doesnt wanna deal with talking about Lan and Jun, Soft touches just wholesome stuff, Something quick Ive been thinking about for forever, Why did Jun seem sentient outside of Satan its so weird, Word salad to make me sound smart, smoochin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14284116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialAverageBiscuit/pseuds/OfficialAverageBiscuit
Summary: It was enough, just to look at each otherAKA pointless vaguely sad fluff in poetic aesthetic bullshit form. It's short but it's pretty good imo





	Bells

**Author's Note:**

> Well people have been calling me out for writing porn so I won't anymore. I have literally no issue stopping. Thanks, actually. I do it for views because don't lie E stories get more.
> 
> Have this instead, I actually enjoyed making it.

He awoke to a whisper, delicate, like bells, bells.

 

He awoke to a soft touch, thin fingers tracing ballet across his chest with a tense, unwavering darkness behind it he had grown so accustomed to.

 

His eyes flickered, still closed, and he heard a high, cold laugh. That airy whisper cooed his name like bells singing again. Cold, cold clean air rushing over him, the faint glow emitting a dry, artificial heat that stirred and mixed with dissonant chill.

 

Satan smiled at him, carefully tracing a pale, long finger over a wound across Akira's chest.

 

“We won,” he whispered, giddiness seeping into his poorly controlled tone, and Akira chuckled low in his throat. That much was clear, seeing as he wasn't being tortured by Satan's brothers.

 

“Yeah,” was all he said to acknowledge him. There wasn't anything else that was needed. Akira's eyes drifted over Satan briefly and lazily, vision still drained from the gash across his chest. Sex wasn't really a pressing desire at the moment, and his eyes found their way back to Satan's face far faster than they would have when he was say 16, barely fused.

 

Satan noticed and eyed him scorningly for old habits, but his warm smile didn't leave his lips. He just softly padded his touch along Akira's wound, almost fixated. There was no shame or secret in it, at this point, the same as Akira's erosion of chagrin and acceptance of the onceover he always gave Satan.

 

He leaned to kiss him, something without real meaning or depth, neither chaste nor with desire. It was almost obligated, almost a standard they begrudgingly participated in for no one in particular. Satan's hair fell across Akira's neck as their lips grazed and their eyes opened.

 

It was enough, really, to just look at each other. They both knew that, but Akira spoke anyways.

 

“So, Ran and Jun, huh?”

 

Satan's smile stilted a bit, his lips pursed and his eyes turned from warm to forced. But he didn't become upset.

 

“Yes,” he dismissed, returning to running his hands over Akira's shoulders and brushing against his wound.

 

“It seems we've both learned things,” Satan offered instead, and Akira frowned softly at the change in subject, but let it go.

 

“It has seemed to work out, hasn't it?” Akira murmured. Satan softly laid his head against Akira's chest, pale golden hair tickling against skin and irritated flesh. It seemed Satan didn't mind dried blood in his hair.

 

Akira eyed him for a moment, curious, but let his gaze drift towards the sky. Satan's breathing, a joke, a hobby, slowed to match Akira's.

 

He was going to make a joke of it, tell him he was being far too romantic and sappy, but Satan's fingers clutched at Akira's sides, and for a split moment, despite himself, all concept of “Satan" left Akira and he saw a flash of Ryo Asuka.

 

“You miss her, don't you?”

 

Akira's throat closed at the thought of Miki, echoes of old flames of anger flaring back to weak coals. They were drowned yet by grief and regret. Akira opened his mouth to say something, but Satan tightened his grip, and Akira felt something warm sealing his wounds.

 

And against his breast, the devil cried.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I really do appreciate it. Please give me feedback.
> 
> Deuces.


End file.
